


A Cold Evening

by Turkborne



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood Loss, Injury, Kidnapping, M/M, Nidhogg being a creepy bastard, Possession, Torture, blackmailing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:34:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26929732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turkborne/pseuds/Turkborne
Summary: Written for Whumptober 2020 prompt #10 "They Look So Pretty When They Bleed"Aymeric's been taken by Nidhogg, still possessing Estinien's form. By the Fury, what does this dreaded Wrym want of him and why is he even still alive?
Relationships: Aymeric de Borel/Estinien Wyrmblood, Aymeric de Borel/Nidhogg
Comments: 4
Kudos: 44





	A Cold Evening

**Author's Note:**

> This is unbeta'd and contains quite a bit of violence. It's not my usual kink sexytimes unless you're here for the violence as a form of sexy.

Aymeric woke up- unsure of exactly how he had gotten here. There was little familiar about this place. Last he remembered was falling asleep in his own room. Yet here he was- shivering under a blanket with a fire dimming quickly next to him in what appeared to be a small cottage. It was clearly built before the calamity- unable to withstand the cold of Ishgard and likely long abandoned. How he’d ended up here was a complete mystery. Even when out on hunts places like this were rarely used. Too often they collapsed under the weight of snow and ice in a storm to be deemed safe.

He kept the blanket wrapped around his body as he stoked the fire with the wood split next to it. The lord commander prayed that the flames would rise quickly and warm the small space. He was shuddering fiercely and if it became any worse he feared for his own safety.

  
  
“Aymeric,” an all-too-familiar voice purred into his ear and his heart skipped a beat in both fear and desire.The armor-clad arm that wrapped around his torso and held him firmly was a poor sign. It wasn’t the familiar pristine armor that Estinien was proud of, no- this had dried blood stuck to it. He swallowed thickly, unsure what game the dragon possessing his dearest dragoon could be playing. 

“Nidhogg,” he replied, holding the blankets a little tighter. A dark chuckle brushed over his ear. 

“Oh good. I was hoping you’d catch on quickly, little one.”

Nidhogg wasn’t prone to being kind. Whatever this was, the fact he was still alive at all was unusual and meant there was something afoot here. He took a shuddering breath and spoke, “Care to tell me what you want and skip the pleasantries then?”

Nidhogg chuckled, bemused even further by the way Aymeric flinched in reaction. He could smell the fear coming off the elezen as he spoke, “What care should I have for your desires and comforts, little lord? Do you think I would have brought you here if such was a concern?”

Aymeric swallowed thickly. The dragon certainly had a point but that he was alive spoke to the fact he wanted something of him. The Lord Commander turned his head and reached up, pushing up the helm that kept Estinien’s face hidden from view. A loud snart ripped itself from Estinien’s throat and Aymeric’s vision swam. He heard the thud and crash of furniture breaking. Pain lanced through his back and left side.

  
  
He was trained for this, for battle. He grabbed the broken table leg and pushed away the pain, trying to stand. “You fool of a lordling!”

  
  
Nidhogg grabbed him by the neck, slamming him back against the wall. His back would become a mass of bruises and he knew it. He still didn’t relinquish his hold on the table leg- even though he knew it couldn’t break through Estinien’s armor. A shudder ran through him as he looked at Estinien’s face. It was the only part of him vulnerable.

  
Aymeric swung.

  
  
Nidhogg intercepted, tossing the wood aside and letting it shatter. He let out a warning growl just before he spoke, “Do you yield, Lord Commander?”

“You know I will not, can not,” he replied succinctly. Aymeric was prying at Estinien’s fingers although he was getting nowhere. Between his dragoon’s strength and the dragon’s there was little hope he would manage this. 

Nothing changed for several long moments. Nidhogg seemed content to let him struggle as if he were a dragon clutchling. “I was hoping you would say such. It makes this much simpler.”

  
  
Nidhogg grabbed the collar of Aymeric’s sleep-shirt and pulled roughly, fabric tearing beneath the gauntlets. Aymeric could only shiver in the cold as he struggled in his grasp.His torso was bare to the dragon now and Aymeric could see there was no love in his eyes, just a form of primal hunger.

“Nidhogg- I will not yield even should you deign to torture me,” Aymeric replied lowly.

  
  
The dragon laughed in reply, “It is not you who needs to yield, _‘Meric._ ”

Aymeric’s eyes widened in realization. Only Estinien called him that when they were in private. Anyone else who used to died in the war or had long since taken to calling him Lord Commander. 

“No, by the Fury, No. Nidhogg-” He swallowed thickly. For the wyrm to have captured him to use him against Estinien that meant he knew of their relationship and that Estinien was still fighting him. “You need not do this. You have his body. Clearly, you know his mind. What more of him could you need?”

“His submission,” Nidhogg hissed back with a cruel smile playing on his lips.

“Let me speak with him. Mayhap I-”

  
  
“No.”

“Please, I can-”

“You cannot,” Nidhogg huffed, clearly tiring of his protests. “I’m afraid he will have to see the lengths I am willing to go to in order to ensure his submission.”

Aymeric swallowed, “Yet he knows I would do anything for his freedom. How do you- Ah!”

  
  
Pain lanced up Aymeric’s chest and he felt the heat of blood running down his chest. The burn of the wound wasn’t unnoticed either. Blue eyes glared daggers at the wyrm bearing his lover’s flesh. 

“We will not yield because of a little spilled blood,” Aymeric hissed at him.

Nidhogg rolled his eyes and leaned in, lapping the blood off the shallow cut. He hummed for a moment after and pulled back, a smile on his lips. “A shame your digestive tracks aren’t suited to consuming blood. Your tastebuds are just as fond of it as ours are it seems. I believe this vessel of mine has the constitution to have some more, don’t you think so Lord Commander? Your dragoon is quite formidable.”

He knew Estinien had the stomach for it, that he’d eaten worse things growing up poor. They both knew this. Nidhogg set him down and smiled softly, stroking his hair. Aymeric snarled and knocked the armored hands away.

  
  
“Oh, Meric. Don’t you think I can handle it?” He asked, sickeningly sweet.

“Nidhogg you bastard don’t you dare start mocking us- pretending to be him!”

  
  
The way Estinien’s hair slid into his hair was the same way it always did, even if his other arm came to hold him in a vice-like grip. Aymeric’s heart dropped with the way he smiled at him. By the Fury, it was his lover’s body for all that it was taken by this devil of a wyrm. 

“‘Meric,” he crooned, “It would be so much easier if you did pretend. I’m afraid you won’t like what I do next, lordling.”

  
  
The rest of Aymeric’s shirt was torn away, tatters scattered onto the floor. There was nothing the other could do to stop him, not with the sheer strength he had, not unless he got lucky and was willing to kill his beloved. He knew Estinien would prefer death. He’d prefer his own.

  
  
What a pair they made.

He didn’t struggle when Nidhogg pinned him against the wall yet again. Aymeric glared at him and held his wrist firmly. “Well, what now?”

Sharp burning pain tore across his lower ribs. Once again the dragon decided to part flesh and let blood spill. Several more times he drew the sharpened claw of the armor across Aymeric’s flesh until he finally cried out. He was trembling and shaking, blood running freely down his torso and staining the hem of his pants. It would soak further as he continued to bleed… provided Estinien did not yield.

“You should hear how he’s screaming and demanding for me to cease. From what I understand you’d be rather proud of him for the tone,” Nidhogg teased. His eyes were more focused on Aymeric’s heaving chest than anything else. “I do love the sight of your suffering. I cannot say I’m displeased that my host is fighting me so much. It means I can keep playing with you. Do try to stay awake for me, won’t you?”

He pinned both of Aymeric’s wrists to the wall, making note of how little the other was struggling. The Lord Commander was smart, conserving his strength until he could make a move. Nidhogg could admit that was an unusual amount of patience in a mortal. No wonder his host found him worthwhile. He lapped at the blood on Aymeric’s chest and hummed lightly before pulling him into a kiss.

  
  
Aymeric kissed back- an unexpected pleasure for Nidhogg. Truthfully he thought he would meet resistance there. Aymeric’’s words came out breathless against Estinien’s lips, “My love, let him do what he will with me. Do not give up hope while our friend still can fight. There must be a way, do not- ah!”

The hand around his throat silenced him but he knew Estinien heard him. Aymeric closed his eyes and smiled. He’d won as far as he was concerned. 

Nidhogg couldn’t let it end there.

“You fool of a mortal, do you think this is all I am capable of?” The wyrm hissed. He spun Aymeric around, bloody chest pressed to the wall as he sliced up his back. Aymeric cried out but still let the dragon do as he pleased. If death or pain was his intent he could have it. Estinien would not be giving into him.

  
  
Aymeric’s vision swam. He was losing too much blood too quickly. If he kept quiet- if he closed his eyes maybe Estinien wouldn’t have to see death take him. He felt that mouth on his back- heard the moaning even through the haze of his pain. “I love you, Stini.”

The hands holding him set him free and he collapsed to the ground. Aymeric looked up, glassy-eyed. His chest was heaving for air and his skin had turned pale. There was a war waging within his lover’s form. He grabbed another table leg, quiet as he could. For a moment it may as well have been a cane. He got his feet under him and then held it out in front of him. He felt his body sway and his vision nearly go. 

Nidhogg chuckled and dodged his first swing, then the second. Aymeric tumbled to the floor under his own power while Nidhogg watched, doing nothing to help nor hinder him. Aymeric stood again and his vision swam once more. He looked down at the wood and took a shuddering breath. “Just kill me and be done with it, wyrm. We will not yield.”

“He already has, Lord Commander. Is it not curious that I’ve released you? He negotiates for you to be healed and returned to Ishgard now,” Nidhogg replied. Aymeric’s breath stuttered and he dropped the chunk of wood, falling to the floor with it.

  
  
“Estinien-”

A few silent moments passed and Nidhogg reached for the helm. When Aymeric’s eyes saw Estinien’s steely blue a small needy noise peeled out of his throat. “Aye, it’s me. The wyrm has advised me as to where he left a potion for your wounds. Fury’s tits, ‘meric. Did you want to die?”

  
  
“A death for your sake-”

“-would be foolish!” Estinien chided, grabbing the potion out of the box on the mantle. He set his helm on the mantle and stalked over to Aymeric, grabbing his mouth and dumping the potion into it. Aymeric swallowed, although not without difficulty. Estinien watched as the potion went to work, knitting flesh. “My mouth still tastes of your blood.”

“You don’t feel sick, do you?” Aymeric asked softly, looking his dragoon over. He wasn’t sure how long they had. It couldn’t be long. Nidhogg wasn’t known for kindness, particularly as far as mortals were concerned.

“I do not. Do you feel like death still?” Estinien asked, picking up the blanket off the ground and wrapping it around Aymeric’s shoulders.

  
  
“I believe I’ll survive. How long-”

“Not long enough,” Estinien answered. “Please just-” Aymeric didn’t wait. He pulled himself to his feet and wrapped his arms around his lover.

  
  
“Estinien Wyrmblood, my love, my dragoon, I swear I will fight for you always,” Aymeric kissed him gently and buried both his hands in his hair. The blanket could wait.

  
  
“I love you too, ‘Meric. I need you to promise me something,”

  
  
“Stini-”

“Cease your talking and listen. Promise me you’ll keep your windows locked from now on. Say it,” Estinien demand. The fire in his lover’s eyes was enough for him to know that was how Nidhogg had snuck in and taken him. The same way he’d always left open for his beloved.

“I promise, only because you’ve asked me. I’ll lock my windows, Stini,” he replied softly. They both know it wouldn’t stop Nidhogg, but it would give Aymeric a fighting chance. 

“Thank you,” He whispered back. “I’m sorry I don’t have more time. I have to-”

  
  
Aymeric kissed him, letting his eyes fall shut. He could feel the way Estinien held him with desperation ended abruptly. Pain lanced through his temple and red filled his vision even with his eyes closed before there was nothing.

  
  


He awoke, cold. The window in his room was swinging in the wind and smacking in it’s frame. He pulled himself out of the bed, grimacing at the dried blood and locked his window. Aymeric stood for a moment, watching the wind and snow outside. He shivered and prayed to the Fury that Estinien would be returned to him one day.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Please leave a Kudos or Comment if you did so.


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